


Paging Through

by AndromedaSmith



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, KaraMel, Missing Scene, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaSmith/pseuds/AndromedaSmith
Summary: Books are a recurring theme in Mon-El and Kara’s relationship.
Relationships: Imra Ardeen/Mon-El, Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	Paging Through

**Author's Note:**

> My original plan for this piece was several fluffy scenes linked by a common theme; somehow it turned into a Karamel retelling with that same theme. So you already know the story here; I hope you enjoy this version.

“They put their words on _dead plants_?”

This planet was impossible. So far he’d been captured, imprisoned, accused, released, tested, and now somehow placed in the custody of a Kryptonian. A beautiful Kryptonian who didn’t know—and wasn’t going to find out—that she was mentoring the crown prince of her people’s rival planet. 

And whose brow furrowed at the derision he was showing toward the item she’d just presented him with — something she called a “book.” 

“I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to,” Kara replied, apologetically. She took a step back from where he sat on the narrow cot in the tiny room.

“This planet is so ... _primitive_!” Mon-El blurted. “Are you telling me they don’t even have decent datapads? How do you find anything in one of these? How do you read this text that doesn’t move? Next you’re going to tell me they don’t have space travel!”

He turned the book around in his hands, rolling his eyes in … frustration? Annoyance? He couldn’t even name what he was feeling. It was all just too much.

Kara seemed to sense his agitation. Her tone of voice became more soothing and she stepped closer to him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. This planet isn’t exactly Krypton—or Daxam—“ she amended when he glared at her, “but it has its good points. And books are one of them. They’re low-tech, it’s true. But they are charming, and precious, and unique. Each copy is just that book, and nothing else. Books are given as gifts, shared within families, and even passed on as reminders after people die. Just give them a try.”

Mon-El’s irritation subsided. It was hard to resist Kara’s good-natured and passionate defense of Earth’s books; she was so honest and unguarded. 

He was likely to get further with her by turning on the charm, anyway.

Holding up his hands in surrender, he grinned. “Okay. I said I’d do as I was told, so I will try this ‘book’ thing.”

Her answering smile was reward enough. He glanced down at the book again. He’d had some practice reading English from the screens in the DEO, but the printed letters still jumped and blurred under his gaze.

“A New.. Newcomer’s Guide to America,” he read the title, tentatively.

“It’s for immigrants,” she explained. “Human immigrants, from elsewhere on Earth. There isn’t a guide for alien refugees like us yet.”

“Isn’t your job about putting words together?” he asked. “You should write it.”

“Maybe. But being Supergirl keeps me kind of busy,” she replied, twirling a lock of hair around one finger.

“And now you’ve taken on a new job, looking after me.”

“It’s no trouble. You’ll find your feet in no time,” she replied, biting her lip.

He looked down. “What’s wrong with my feet?”

She laughed. “Sorry, it’s an idiom. Means that you’ll be able to stand on your own.”

He joined her chuckle, smiling back at her as she turned to leave. She ducked her head from his gaze.

“I need to get going. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow. Thanks, Kara.” 

She really _was_ beautiful. He had to find out more about mating customs on this planet. Maybe this book would have some clues.

* * *

Mon-El ambled back to the DEO from Kara’s loft with a silly grin on his face and the _Highlights_ magazine she’d given him clutched tightly in his hand. She had clearly figured out that he’d fallen hard for the printed word. She had been right: there was just _something_ about holding a book in your hand, knowing it was yours, writing in the margins.

He was still a bit confused about what message Kara was trying to send by giving him something clearly marked as ‘a magazine for children’. Maybe she was loosening up from being the snooty Kryptonian he’d first met? Maybe he had something to do with that?

The bigger confusion, though, was whether she had figured out that he’d fallen for _her_. She pretended not to remember that he’d kissed her a few weeks ago, when he’d been so close to dying. (To be fair, he’d pretended not to remember either.) But tonight she’d snuggled under the blanket with him, smiled at him, and laughed with him. 

And she hadn’t laughed _at_ him when he declared his intention to be a hero so he could help her keep the world spinning. Was that really a good idea, even if it was the best way he could think of to get closer to Kara? His upbringing on Daxam had mostly been about keeping himself out of danger, not jumping into it. 

Arriving back at the DEO, Mon-El checked in with the duty officer and followed the corridors to his room, his thoughts spinning.

_Daxam_. The pang of loss echoed in his mind: all those people, gone so quickly. Many aspects of his life there weren’t things he wanted to remember, but still…it was home, and it was gone forever. He hadn’t really been able to talk about it with Kara, even though she had to be the person on this planet best able to understand. By now he had waited too long; talking about it risked letting her know who he really was, and she would never forgive him for not telling her earlier. Best to put it out of his mind and just build a new life here. With Kara in it, he hoped.

How could he figure out what to do next? He hadn’t progressed much in his understanding of Earth mating, except to learn that the preferred term was “romance”. Winn had helped him figure out how to use the National City public library. After one embarrassing mistake he’d quickly learned that writing in the margins of library books was not allowed. (Luckily he’d made the “accidentally tear a book in half with super-strength” mistake with a DEO manual and not a library book.)

Dropping himself onto the cot, Mon-El pulled out a stack of books from underneath: _Pride and Prejudice_ , _Gone with the Wind, Anna Karenina, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes..._ that last seemed promising, for obvious reasons. He flipped it open and started to read.

* * *

Fiction had introduced Mon-El to Earth culture. _The Joy of Cooking_ had convinced him that books had a lot more information than YouTube. It took _Romeo and Juliet_ to convince him that books… had some downsides. Kara had insisted he finish reading it, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. Okay, he got that running away had probably been a bad idea. But the son and daughter of warring families falling in love ... and eventually dying? Why did she want him to read that?

“Because we’re not going to end up that way, silly,” she had laughed, tickling him under the blanket as they snuggled on the couch. “Our story may have started out like theirs, but it can have its own ending.” 

He caught her hands and leaned away from her, just far enough that he could stare at her face and drink her in. The light in her eyes, the happiness that made her so beautiful. It made the breath catch in his chest to look at her and know that he could make her happy.

“Do you really think so?” he asked, quietly.

“I really think so,” she replied, freeing her hands to gently stroke his. “We lost our homes — well, except now we know your people aren’t completely gone —“ he winced at the reminder “— but we came together and, in a way, so did Krypton and Daxam. They live on through us.”

He raised their hands to his face and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles as she continued, “And we made something new. You changed. You changed me. I—” she stopped and bit her lip.

Mon-El knew what Kara had stopped herself from saying, even had some idea of why. He continued for her, “I love you, Kara. You are the only home I need.”

She sighed and pulled him to her. “Happily ever after.”

“Since _Romeo and Juliet_ isn’t right, _”_ he murmured as he nuzzled her ear, “I think we need a new story.”

“We’ll write it together,” Kara replied, and turned his face to hers for a slow, passionate kiss.

* * *

The _Romeo and Juliet_ ending didn’t happen to them, but neither did the ‘happily ever after’ that Kara had forecast.

The paperback copy of the play, with margin notes in surprisingly neat handwriting, remained under the bed where Mon-El had left it. When Kara discovered the book after his departure, her first instinct was to throw away the reminder of love lost. She’d made the decision that she had to move on. On paging through the book and seeing his annotations, she changed her mind. He might be gone, but she was never going to forget him. Mon-El had become even more attached to books than she was. Throwing the book away just felt wrong. 

She returned the book to its place under the bed. It attracted a few dust bunnies and otherwise endured as a silent witness to lonely nights.

* * *

In the thirty-first century, paper books were hard to find outside of museums and archives. After Mon-El had caught up to the newer version of the language, his reading returned to datapads and screens. 

He sat in a dark window alcove in Imra’s family home. A roaring windstorm raged outside, the kind of howler that terrified visitors but hardly even made Titanians take notice. He idly flipped through pages on a datapad, contemplating more than reading.

Tomorrow, he and Imra were getting latched. He thought of it with the Daxamite term, since the whole business reminded him of what he now thought of as his first life. As the prince of Daxam, he would have been latched without a choice in the matter, to cement a political bond or ensure some aristocrat’s loyalty. He’d thought he was free of that when his parents left Earth. But fate and duty were what they were, and his third life would be what it was.

Imra slipped into the seat next to him. “Hey.”

Imra’s expression showed a mood darker than his own and he could feel the anxiety radiating from her. He had grown up with the idea of an arranged latching someday, but this was all new to her. He needed to ease her mind.

Mon-El lifted his head and gave Imra a small smile, then took her hand and squeezed gently.

“Hey, yourself. Ready for tomorrow?” 

“I think so.” She quickly changed the subject. “What are you reading?”

“Old Earth play. _Romeo and Juliet._ ”

“The doomed lovers?” Imra’s face scrunched in confusion.

“That’s the one.”

“Are we Romeo and Juliet?”

He chuckled. “I hope not, since they both die. It starts out with Juliet betrothed to someone else. But he dies too.”

“Seems a bit depressing to be reading the night before your marriage,” she suggested.

“You’re right.” He thumbed off the datapad and stood up, pulling her with him. “Let’s go see what Preya’s planning for tomorrow.”

Walking slowly down the dark hallway, Imra’s hand in his, Mon-El’s thoughts kept circling _Romeo and Juliet_. The memory of that night on Kara’s couch, her insistence that the play’s fate wasn’t theirs … she’d been right about that, even if this fate wasn’t what he would have chosen. His stomach clenched at the thought that he hadn’t been able to contact her, at least let her know he was alive. And that he still loved her and always would.

The vision of golden hair, a musical laugh, and blue eyes like comets flashed through his mind as he held in a sigh. He clutched Imra’s hand like a lifeline.

* * *

Back in the twenty-first century and about to leave again. Mon-El turned away from saying goodbye to Kara — without really saying goodbye — and re-entered the DEO. Was it better or worse that he was leaving her by his own choice this time? It didn’t really matter. He’d told Winn that he didn’t know if he could lose her again. But he had to. He had to save the future. He might be older, if not wiser, but that didn’t ease the pain that was tearing through him like a black hole through a star cluster. Added to his losses was the pain of parting from Imra, too — not that she was ever truly his, or he hers. But what would they be to each other now?

Winn needed to put his affairs in order; there was a little time before they left for the future with Imra. Mon-El didn’t want to spend that time at the DEO. Kara had put on a brave face on the balcony, but he could see how hard she was working to keep it together. He couldn’t put her through that any more, even though it meant forgoing a proper farewell to the others. _Experts at goodbyes_. He scoffed at himself. _Some hero_.

Finding his way through the DEO corridors on auto-pilot, Mon-El stopped at a basement office to quickly chat with Pam from HR. He sped down to the visitor quarters, changed into civilian clothes, and slipped out a little-used exit. The city was starting to clean up from the destructive effects of the unfinished terraforming. As he walked further from the DEO, he started to encounter pockets of normality, barely touched by the cataclysm visible elsewhere in the city. 

The streets here were surprisingly lively for a city that had faced destruction only hours ago. Humans were so...resilient. Mon-El walked the crowded sidewalks, unable, and not really trying, to stifle his memories of exploring the city with Kara. One stood out: strolling a street not far from where he was now, one hand holding an ice cream cone, the other squeezing Kara’s powerful yet small and slightly sticky hand. Making himself remember that it wasn’t much more than a year ago, for her, was a lot harder.

He turned a corner. A quantum of joy briefly lit up his otherwise bleak mood. _Still here_! The used bookstore looked exactly the same. _Right… only a year._ Nodding at the clerk behind the front desk, he headed straight for the back corner of the store. Returning a few minutes later, he paid for the two books he’d found and quickly left. 

* * *

Back in his super-suit, Mon-El stood motionless in his tiny quarters on the Legion ship. After a few moments he tucked a battered paperback copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ into a drawer. He looked down at National City, ran his hand across his face, then went to the control center to help Winn pilot their departure.

Kara flew home to her loft clutching the manila envelope Pam had given her. Dropping through the open window, she carefully opened the envelope to find ... a book? She turned the front cover but her tears blurred the view of Mon-El’s hand-written inscription. Closing the cover — she’d read the words later when there was less danger of smearing the ink — she held the book to her chest. Her superhearing picked up the sound of the Legion ship’s engines and she raised her brimming eyes to look out the window just as it streaked through the sky.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> What book do you think he leaves for her?
> 
> “Mon-El as bookworm” shows up in a couple of other fics, most notably LoneWulffe’s “Marginal Sentiments.” I didn’t try to explain how Mon-El learned to read English so quickly - for one take on that, see Engineerd’s “Lost in Translation.”


End file.
